


Two Steps Foreward

by caffeinatednightowl, Mirror_Verse



Series: Mirror-Verse [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Confessions, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatednightowl/pseuds/caffeinatednightowl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirror_Verse/pseuds/Mirror_Verse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean attempts to make up with Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Steps Foreward

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ten Steps Backward](https://archiveofourown.org/works/804499) by [caffeinatednightowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatednightowl/pseuds/caffeinatednightowl), [Mirror_Verse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirror_Verse/pseuds/Mirror_Verse). 



> Art done by [Nekoshojo.](http://nekoshojo.tumblr.com)

Dean came home from work, aching, tired, and in a very bad mood. Customers fucking complaining about how much repairs cost again. _If you don’t want to pay for it, don’t fucking ruin your car._ Dean thought grimly, throwing down his backpack and slumping on the lumpy couch.

He picked up the remote an clicked it. Static. Damnit. Dean rolled his eyes, shut off the TV and tossed the remote. Awesome. Groaning, he stretched out on the couch and rolled over, unsure what to do with the rest of the night.

He heard his brother’s door open and his voice, “Yeah Jess—still busy with that paper due next week—yeah, okay—see you at lunch tomorrow. Love you too, bye!” A _beep_ and then he hung up. A pause,  and then, “Oh, hey, Dean.”

“Hey,” Dean growled, not in the mood to talk to Sammy now.

Apparently Sammy didn’t pick up that hint. “How was work?”

“Fucking annoying,” Dean rolled his eyes, staring at the ceiling.

“Did you talk to Cas yet?”

Dean swallowed, lump in his throat. _Cas._ He hadn’t talked to Cas in over a week. It was strange—a week wasn’t that long of time, but every morning when he woke up, hearing Cas’s voice in that ridiculous alarm he forced Cas to make for him once, it hurt. He used to wake up smiling to Cas’s awkward “Wake up, Dean,” and the first night after the fight, he almost changed it, but couldn’t.

Even just the act of waking up these days made him feel guilty.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know. Oh, he _knew_ he had pissed Cas off big time. Going over the scene in the coffee shop in his head, over and over again like he did so many times in the past week, he could probably write a fucking dissertation on everything he could’ve handled better.

But damnit, it had to be _Meg._ Cas didn’t know Meg, didn’t know how that scheming bitch tried to latch on to his little brother—latch on to _him_ —if she was hanging around Cas, it certainly wasn’t for _his_ benefit.

So yeah, maybe he threw a fit. But it was for Cas’s own good! And if Cas was gonna throw a bitchfit about it—

“I take it your silence means ‘no’,” sighed Sam. Dean could almost hear those rolled eyes. “Dean, when are you gonna man up and just talk to him about it?”

“When you stop being such a girl about feelings,” he growled.

Sam gave another heavy sigh and said, “Dude, are you _ever_ planning on talking to Cas?”

Now it was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. He wasn’t aware his little brother was in fact his little _sister._ “I’ll talk to him when he’s ready to talk to me, all right! Jeez, give it a rest, Sammy!”

Sam didn’t respond immediately, making Dean think that maybe, _maybe_ he had gotten the message across. Hearing the kitchen chair scrape across the floor as Sam sat in it confirmed his suspicions. Good. He didn’t discuss feelings and he certainly didn’t discuss them with _Sammy._

Dean wasn’t sure how long he lay there, staring at the ceiling, bored out of his fucking skull, until he heard the kitchen chair scrape again as Sam stood up. “Dean?”

“What?” he grumbled. If Sam was gonna try and talk about this again, he _swear—_

“Dean, did you hear that?” His brother sounded concerned, so Dean sat up, looking at him. “Hear what?”

Sam cautiously stepped toward their apartment door. “That—you didn’t hear it?”

“Hear _what_?” Dean stood up.

“I dunno, man, it sounded…” Sam opened the door, looking carefully out into the hallway. Dean wasn’t sure what he heard, but Sammy was never the jumpy type. He walked over to him, peering out into the hallway. The white walls and water-stained carpet looked the same as usual.

“What did you hear?” Dean asked, as he stepped out fully into the hallway, taking careful looks back behind him—

That was when the door slammed in his face.

“What?” He heard the _click!_ of the lock as he grabbed the doorknob, hearing laughing from the other side. “ _Sammy!”_

“Not letting you in until you go apologize to Cas,” Sam continued to laugh, as Dean pounded against the door.

“Damnit, _Sammy!_ ”

Sam continued to laugh before adding, “I’m serious about not letting you back in. You guys need to work this out. Go find him and make up.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, groaning, “I can’t find him without my car, Sammy!” Dean heard the sound of his keys jingling behind the door before his car key—and only his car key—was slid under.

“Go get ‘im, tiger.”

“Fuck you,” growled Dean, picking up the key and stuffing it in his pocket. Sam said he wouldn’t let Dean back in until he made up with Cas—how was he gonna check that? Call Cas and ask him if they kissed and made up? Ugh, little brothers, seriously.

Figuring it would do him no good to bang on his door all night, Dean walked down the narrow hallway and outside. It was a cool night, and he shivered without his jacket.

Sighing, Dean leaned against the Impala, looking up at the starlit sky. Sam was insistent about this, but should he really do it? Cas—there was no guarantee he would listen. And listen to _what_? Cas was one of the most heartfelt, nicest people he had ever met. All he was doing was making sure his niceness didn’t get him in trouble—why did he have to apologize for that?

Dean crossed his arms, scowling. If anything, Cas should apologize. Cas was the one who shoved him against a wall. That _hurt._ Cas was the one who didn’t understand. He didn’t get that he was just trying to help—just trying to keep Cas from doing something stupid. Why would he have to apologize for that? He was just making sure that Meg would keep her grubby mitts off Cas, it wasn’t as if—

 _It wasn’t your place, and you know it_.

Dean rolled his eyes at the voice in his head, that little conscience that always had to be a dick about these sort of things. So what if it wasn’t his place? It was his job to look out for Cas, wasn’t it? It was his—

_That’s not why you did it, and you know it._

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he argued with himself. Well—yeah—maybe he did tell Meg off because she was flirting up Cas. So what? She should’ve stayed away from him. And Cas—he should’ve told her to go away the moment he realized what was going on, if he even did. And if not, why was it his fault that he—

_Cas isn’t yours. You can’t make decisions for him. If he wanted to go out with her, you don’t have the right to stop it._

It all came down to that, didn’t it? Dean put his hands to his face, his palms skimming his skin, knuckles against his forehead. It wasn’t his call. It was Cas’s. And—even if he dreamed about it—thought about it whenever they were together—wanted it but knew he didn’t deserve it—Cas _wasn’t_ his. He didn’t have the right.

Cas was his best friend, but they were _just_ friends. And if he didn’t apologize, they might not even be that.

Dean sighed again, looking up at the stars. “Man…” The sinking feeling in his heart—in his stomach—told him all he needed to know. He’d need to apologize. Get Cas to understand he didn’t mean to upset him. Cas could make his own decisions. He wasn’t a child. And, more importantly—he was Dean’s best friend…if he still wanted to be.

But how was he gonna do that?

Dean looked back down at the pavement; kicked his shoe against it. Sam was probably planning on calling Cas or something to confirm if he did apologize before he let him back in; he’d have to do it tonight.

Dean let out a slow breath. _Damnit, Sammy. Alright, fine. You want me to go over there and apologize. Well, this is me, apologizing._

He opened up the Impala door and got inside. After a few seconds of staring at the dash, butterflies in his stomach and contemplating the outcome of saying “Fuck this,” and going back to reason with Sam, Dean sighed again and shut the door, starting the car.

\-------------------

He didn’t feel any less nervous when he pulled up in front of Cas’s apartment. He had hoped that driving around town, blasting Metallica would calm him like it usually did—but as soon as he stopped the car and looked at that familiar door, he panicked again.

What if Cas threw him out? What if he said he didn’t care? What if—

Dean swallowed down his fear and forced himself to get out of the car, palms sweaty and heart thumping in his chest. He was going to be sick—

 _Breathe. Just tell Cas you’re sorry. He’s Cas. He’ll listen_.

Forcing himself to believe that, Dean managed to get to the door, and, after only a second of hesitation, rang the doorbell.

Those few seconds before he heard the turn of the lock were more nerve-wracking than he could’ve imagined.

The tension was lost when the door opened, and a robe-clad, weed-smelling Chuck answered it. “Oh, hey, man.”

Dean stared at Chuck for a moment, a bit taken aback. “Uh…hey. Cas is…is he here?”

Chuck stood back to let Dean in, saying, “I guess—he’s probably in his room. You know, for the past week, he’s been coming back from work and locking himself in his room, working on his art projects—you know something about that?”

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, looking toward Cas’s shut door. There was that sinking feeling in his chest again—he forced himself not to get lost in it. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him—Chuck, could you…?”

Chuck got the hint, at least. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.” He picked his laptop off the kitchen table and went back into his room, shutting the door. It wasn’t until he heard the baseline of some heavy metal song that he allowed himself to walk over to Cas’s door.

Dean stared at it for a moment—just that whitewashed wooden door, before breathing in and placing his fist upon it. Only after a few second’s pause did he knock. “Hey…Cas.”

There was no reply. That caused Dean’s chest to squeeze even more—he was sure Cas was behind it, listening, still mad. “Cas, open the door. I’ve come to talk.”

Still no answer. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to continue. “All right, then. We’re gonna have to do this the hard way, huh?” His hand slipped down the cold wood toward the doorknob—his fingers brushed it, and in feeling the resistance, he knew it was locked. “Dude, either let me in, or I’m gonna stay here talking until you do…Damnit, Cas, come on!”

But Cas still didn’t open the door. Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine…I said I’d do it…” Dean leaned against the door, resting his head against the wood. “You really know how to make a guy feel like crap, you know that?” He was sure Cas did. “First the getting mad and ignoring me, and now this—all you had to do was send a text saying ‘Fuck you, Dean Winchester,’ and I would’ve got it…but no, you gotta do things the hard way—it’s _always_ gotta be the hard way with you, Cas!” Dean thumped his fist against Cas’s door lightly. “Sometimes you really drive me crazy, you know that?”

Though Cas was still silent, it was almost as if he could hear Cas’s voice in his mind, “ _Did you come here to insult me, Dean?”_

Dean shook his head slightly, his hair brushing against the door. “Look don’t—just let me get this all out, okay? I came here to say some stuff and now you’re stuck with me.” He slid down the door to sit on the floor, one knee drawn up to his chest. Swallowing again, he started, “Look—about—you know what. I just…” Dean gritted his teeth. “I mean…I shouldn’tve….It was stupid and I’m sorry okay!” He managed to get out, clenching his fists. “I didn’t mean to make you mad…Meg is an asshole and I should’ve explained that but—I shouldn’tve handled it the way I did. Its—it’s your call, man, not mine. You—you can make your own choices. If—if you want to—I mean—that’s your thing.”

Dean waited longer than usual, hoping any second he would hear Cas’s voice from the other side. When a minute passed, Dean felt wetness welling up in the corner of his eye, he brushed it away, nodding to himself as he knew. “Damnit, Cas, what else do you want from me? I said I was sorry!”

 _“We still didn’t speak to each other for a week, Dean,”_ the Cas-voice in his head said to him.

“Look, man,” his voice cracked as he said it. “What else can I say? I fucked up, I know it, but—I came here to apologize! _Me_ , apologizing! Yeah, I overreacted, but you did too! You didn’t text or try to talk to me, so how can you pull this when this wasn’t just me? C’mon, Cas, don’t be a coward!”

Dean smacked a hand at his forehead as soon as it was out of his mouth, “Fuck, fuck, okay, I didn’t mean--look I came here so we could make up. Are you gonna come out and let us make up or what?”

 _“How do I know this won’t just happen again?”_ Imaginary-Cas said.

“Cas…” Just that one word caused his heart to squeeze itself into knots. “Do you really want me to lay it all out here, man?” The silence seemed to indicate yes. “Cas…look—you can’t just leave me hanging here, buddy. You’re—you’re my best friend. Before I met you, I was just some lazy part-time mechanic and some-time student, no future, didn’t really care for much but drinking and casual sex. My dad had just died a year before and suddenly I had to be a parent for Sam and I just—I didn’t care. You saw me, man—I treated Benny like shit, treated Sammy like shit, treated everybody like shit—because maybe I wanted to be treated like shit in return.”

Dean bit his lip, “And then I met you. You were just this, this nerdy little coffee guy who kept getting my order wrong, but,” Dean couldn’t help the wistful smile, “When I talked, you listened to me. Actually listened. You made me laugh that one time—remember, when you mixed up Doctor Who and Doctor Sexy and I laughed so hard I cried—that was the first time I had laughed in _years._ And it was just because you were being _you._ I mean sure, you say a lot of embarrassing things, Cas, and sometimes you’re not up to par in the social skills department but—when you looked at me, you looked at me like I _mattered._ Like I deserved something more and that—” Dean swallowed, blinking away tears. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

Dean didn’t even care that he was in maximum chick-flick territory here, the words just kept rushing out. “Cas, you’re family to me, you know that? Just as much as Sam. _More_ than Sam. You’re like my best friend— _the_ best friend I’ve ever had. And all those times we’re hanging out, it’s the highlight of my week. You made me a better person just by being around me and I—I’m so grateful we met. I can’t—I can’t even begin—” Dean swallowed again, wiping away the warm tear rolling down his cheek. “Cas, buddy— _I need you_.”

Dean heard a door closing. He popped his head up, brushing away the last of the tears from his eyes. “Damnit, Chuck, I told you to go away—”

“Dean?”

Dean froze, heart near jumping out of his chest. _Cas._ Cas stood there, usual shoulder bag draped across him, looking very confused. “What are you…?”

Dean took a disbelieving glance at the door—Cas had never been behind it at all—and then back at his friend. Feeling his cheeks redden, he stood up, mumbling, “Came over here…thought you were inside and were ignoring me, so…”

“Oh…” Cas seemed to blush with secondhand embarrassment. “I, uh, had to work a little overtime tonight….students starting on their final projects, needing coffee and…”

“Yeah,” Dean forced a smile. “That time of the semester…”

There was a long pause as both of them looked anywhere but each other. Damnit, Dean had finally been able to get it all out, get it _all_ off his chest and Cas didn’t even hear it—he knew what he had to say, but how was he supposed to say it with Cas in front of him like this? He just—he’d have to at least get some of it out. “Cas, I—”

Cas seemed to have the same idea and spoke at the exact same time. “Dean—”

“I’m sorry—”

“I overreacted—”

They both stopped, staring at one another. Well—what more could Dean say to that? Clenching his fists, Dean stared at Cas’s chest, blinking as he spoke, “Cas—I’m sorry. About the other day. It—it was my fault and you can—you can do what you want. I shouldn’t have tried to control the situation like that.”

Cas nodded, “I overreacted a bit. I should’ve—I should’ve said something months ago. And I should’ve called afterwards…it was my fault for letting this go on as it did.”

“Cas, it’s not—it was my—”

“It takes two to fight,” Cas smiled weakly. “Dean, I just—I want everything to be normal again.”

Dean met Cas’s smile. “Yeah…me too.”

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. Well…were they supposed to hug, or…? “So…um…”

“Uh…do you want a beer?” asked Cas, leading him to the kitchen.

Dean smiled wider, “Yeah, that—that would be great.”

Though Cas was all smiles at it being put behind them, Dean could only smile meekly in return. Now he knew it for certain; _I really don’t deserve you, Cas._


End file.
